


Dark Poetry

by duointherain



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-11-03 11:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10965861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duointherain/pseuds/duointherain
Summary: It's ten years after the wars and Heero has now been forced into medical retirement. He had lost track of Duo, but looks him up ... and it's way different than he thought it would be - beyond anything he could have dreamed of.





	1. Chapter 1

Dark Poetry  
By Max

Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing

 

Heero pressed send. It was the 1005th email he’d sent to Duo in the last ten years and he KNEW they were delivered and read, but no replies ever came. Duo had been his only kiss, but that had a decade ago. Staring at the screen, he rubbed his face, realized he hadn’t shaved in two days. 

Email 1006th had to be written. 

“Maxwell, 

I’ve been busy. Do you want me to be sorry? I want to see you. My career at Preventers is over. Please.

Yuy.”

Then he got up and got a water, a protein cookie, and wondered about a life that had given him a house that he didn’t use 90% of. The only glimmer of emotion he could find was in his memories of his childhood friend. His computer dinged for the first time since he’d resigned Preventers and he nearly tripped over a chair he didn’t use getting back to it. 

“Yuy,

535 Jefferson St. New Seattle, L5.

98234-213 Call before you arrive.

Chang.”

Heero’s hands went to his face, fingers pressing to the bridge of his. His eyes felt like they’d fall out of his face. Duo and ... Chang. Bile rose in his throat. How could that even possibly be? 

Fingers shaking, as he started to understand more about himself, about why Duo mattered to him. “Chang - 

Are you and Maxwell married.

Yuy”

Almost instantaneously, as if it had been sent before he sent his response.

“You’re an idiot. I am married. Minaret, my wife and the mother of my four children, said to advise you that if you have any desire to reconnect with Duo, you should bring him a pet, something cute and fluffy, the prettier and friendlier the better. She also said you should come without expectations.

Duo is... different.

Chang”

Different? A pet? Heero glarred. 

“How so?”

“Yuy, 

I don’t have anymore time for you. Come, don’t come - I don’t care. You make him worse than he is, and I’ll kill you. Are we clear?

Mayor Chang” 

Heero’s nose twisted, his lips thin and caught between a snarl and a sneer. He was not going to be told off by Chang Wufei in some cryptic daddy speak like that man had done so much better with his life! 

His next email went to Relena. 

“Good afternoon. 

Please advise me on what would be a good fluffy, very friendly pet to be given to someone who might desire such a thing?

Heero”

Her reply came pretty fast.

“Oh! Hi Heero! 

How are you? A fluffy, friendly pet? Are you going to see Duo! See! I told you that you should go! You should get him a snow weasel! He posted a pic of one of those this morning on the community thread.

Lena”

Heero glared. A snow weasel? Did they also have rain weasels? Money weasels? Office weasels? What the hell was a community thread? Duo... the man who loved blowing things up and was probably a little psychotic... wanted a snow weasel?

Heero searched for for what a snow weasel was and he just stared at the white thing with blue eyes and it looked like some kind of expensive Japanese bread. Maybe he planned to eat it? He wasn’t quite sure if it would baked.. But it might not be a ‘cute’, if such a word connected to such a thing if it were like deep fried. That would probably mess up the fur. Would it bit? 

Heero scratched the back of his head, one eye squinting more than the other, then wrote back. 

“Where do I get one of these things? Is it like some kind of delicacy? Should I bring a certain kind of wine with it or something?”

That got an immediate callback from Relena, her face right up to the camera. “Oh my fucking god! Heero! What the hell’s wrong with you! My daughter almost saw that message? What is wrong with you??”

Heero’s lips pursed up as his eyes shifted to the side. “I was just asking.”

“It’s a pet, Heero. You pet it, give it treats. You do know that Duo writes romance novels, right?”

“We are talking about Duo Maxwell, right?”

“Yeah,” she said calming down. “I expect we are. Heero, I’m not sure visiting Duo would be a good thing.” 

“I’m going,” he said stubbornly. 

“Fine,” she said in her best mommy knows best voice. “When? I’ll arrange for a tame snow weasel and it’s support system.” 

“I want to go now,” Heero said, feeling as if he’d been living without his skin for years, but only know realized how much pain he was in. “I need to see him.”

“It’s not going to be what you think it will be,” Relena said softly, caution in her voice.

“Why does everyone know more about Duo what I do?”

“That is definitely a question you should find an answer to, Heero.” 

“Thank you for advice. Should I bring him a matching weasel? Do they have sun weasels too?”

“No,” she said, her mommy doesn’t approve look pretty effective even over video chat. 

<><>

So three days later, Heero Yuy excited a commercial shuttle, feeling self conscious over the cane still needed because his body did not like the replacement leg. It was all very good to have an enhanced immune system, but it didn’t help with some things. The weasel keeper followed along with the thing’s habitat and more luggage than Heero had brought for himself. 

New Seattle.L5 seemed to have very good security. He wasn’t even sure he could breach her without permission, even if he wanted to. That said, the inside was quaint, pretty, small town feeling with smiling people. Heero felt profoundly out of place. Leaning on his cane, he tried to figure out how to call a cab. 

There didn’t seem to be any public transportation or any buildings over five stories tall. The blue sky stretched forever. That he’d made a mistake hummed over every nerve he had. 

Then an odd little blue car pulled up and stopped suddenly, surreal and almost cartoonish. A person jumped out of it, waving with this grin on their face, so cheerful, with hair colored like a sunrise. 

Every instinct in him, told Heero to shoot the monster before the dream went any farther.

“Hi! I’m Eclipse! I’m Duo’s publicist! He wanted me to pick you up. Oh my god, is that the snow weasel! ‘Lena said you’d be bringing one!” 

The person bent over the cage to look the small mammal in the eye, chattering away at with the same level of enthusiasm that Heero had warranted. “Where is Maxwell,” Heero snapped. What kind of place was this that didn’t allow guns, but had people like... Eclipse? 

Eclipse shook hands with the weasel handler, nodding and smiling. Then the handler just turned and walked back into the space port, which looked, from this side, like nothing more than a tourist information center. Half dancing, Eclipse moved the weasel condo to the back of the blue cartoon car and fit it in, promising the stupid thing, which Heero really wanted to point out did not speak English, that where they were going was going to be great!

“Okay! Colonel Yuy if you could please make yourself comfortable in the car, we’ll get you right home!”

Heero’s teeth itched. He really wanted to bite this guy somehow. He settled into the front passenger seat though, put on the seatbelt, and thought up some stern words for Duo. There ought to be an apology after being treated like this. This was just... annoying.  


Eclipse spun their seat around to face Heero as car took off for whatever destination. “So, welcome to New Seattle.L5. We’re a very small colony and very selective on who is allowed out of the reception area. You should know that you have been granted exceptional exceptions.”

It occurred to Heero that he could make his own gun, worse come to worse. “Is Duo being held against his will?”

“Oh goodness no!” Ellipse batted at Heero with both hands as if he’d just said the most ridiculous thing. "Anyone who wishes to leave, is free to do so! Committing violence here will get a person escorted immediately to the reception, to exit the colony. This colony is a refuge, a sanctuary. The Son of Heaven degreed this colony for his dear friend. There are those of us here who are capable of violence, swift and effective,” Eclipse said with that same children’s television show smile, “We do not tolerate violence, especially not near Duo.”

“Are you threatening me,” Heero said, wanting to backhand this person until their blood splattered on the glass.

“No,” Eclipse said, batting eyelashes, “I’m giving you information you will find helpful for surviving this colony. The Imperial family lives here as well. We love Duo just as much as we love them. You do not wish to be perceived as a threat, Colonel. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Heero said. 

Shortly thereafter, the car pulled into the garage of a small blue house, that sat in the shadow of a much larger house. 

“You should take your gift out of its house and follow me in,” Eclipse said sweetly.

Something just wasn’t right about all this. Heero seriously wanted to know how he had just wanted, unarmed, blissfully unaware of where he was going, into the inner sanctum of the Imperial Chinese family. 

Still, this is where Duo was and he wanted to be here. He opened the cage and the fluffy little white thing bounced to him sniffing his fingers, but squealing when Heero picked it up by the scruff of the neck. 

“Oh goodness,” Eclipse said, “No, no. Hold him like this!” 

“Thank you,” Heero said, holding the little fluffy white thing like an unexploded grenade. 

Eclipse knocked on the door from the garage into the house, waited, then opened it to step inside, “Duo! Hi! Heero and I are here! Can we come in?”

Heero didn’t hear Duo say it was okay, but a moment later Eclipse was motioning for him to come in. 

Heero was deeply glad the stupid fur ball didn’t try to run away, because he only had one hand to hold it. Cane in his other hand, he navigated the steps up into the kitchen. 

Duo, looking like no time had passed at all, stood there spreading something on bread, headphones on. His braid swung as he danced slightly. 

“Duo,” Heero said, feeling his heart soften, feeling like he had skin on again, finally, as if everything scary about the world had just fallen silent. “I’m here.”

Duo pulled some lunch meat from a pouch and arranged it on his sandwich, then some pre-sliced tomato. 

“Duo,” Heero said a little louder, more urgently. 

Eclipse shook his head. “Hold the weasel up, both hands if you can.”

Heero nodded, did as he was asked, keeping his weight on his good leg. Eclipse flipped the light on and off. 

Duo immediately turned his head in their direction, violet eyes empty and unfocused. 

Heero felt fear, like he’d ever felt fear before. Dying didn’t scare him. Losing his leg didn’t scare him. Being retired from Preventers didn’t scare him. War, famine, violence - none of that scared him. An empty Duo though meant the world was broken. In desperation, Heero held the weasel out a little higher. 

Duo mouthed opened like he gasped, but there was no sound. He dropped the knife and moved to pet the little white fur ball, who took to Duo like a flower to sunlight. It scampered into Duo’s hands and cuddling. Duo started making little weasel gibberish at the thing, petting it, and then just wandered off. 

Heero grabbed his cane and nearly sighed as he took the pressure off his leg. “What’s wrong with him?”

“There is nothing physically wrong with him. Your guest room is the first to the left. If you’d like a house of your own, let me know. If you want to talk to Duo, there is a computer by the bay window. If you type to him there, he is likely to respond.” 

“What happened,” Heero said, brows furrowed. If someone hurt Duo, he’d do them bodily harm. It was what he was good at, after all.  
“We don’t know. He was like this when his Imperial Majesty found him.”

“But Relena said he writes novels,” Heero pointed out, because none of this made sense.

“Oh yes, he writes lovely novels. You should try reading them.”

“Will do,” Heero said, moving off to find the computer that Duo would respond to. He leaned his cane against the desk and sat down carefully, fingers resting on the keyboard. 

“Hi Duo.”

“Hello!”

“Do you like the snow weasel?”

“Oh yes! She’s splendid! She has such beautiful blue eyes! I’m going to call her Heero!”

Heero squinted at the screen, read that line three times. “Is it okay if I stay for a while?”

“Sure! Do you like to play race car games?”

“I’ve never played, but I’ll play with you.”

“Great! After I get another chapter done, okay? Get some lunch or something and I’ll be out soon. What’s your name?”

“I’m Heero... Yuy,” Heero typed, thinking he might cry... like actually cry for the first time in longer than he could remember. 

“Great to meet you Heero Yuy I’m Duo Maxwell.” 

Heero just sat there - staring.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero struggles to come to terms with Duo's condition, his own feelings, his own repressed behaviors.

Dark Poetry 2/?  
By Max

 

Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing.

 

Heero’s fingers lingered on the keyboard, doing little more than caressing the well worn keys and considering. 

Duo did not remember him, directly, but named a new pet Heero. There had to have been brain damage. 

Fingers stroking the keys he considered his path forward. He could solve the mystery of how Duo got brain damage and harm whoever needed to be harmed. 

There had been a time right after the wars, after he’d rescued Relena when he thought he’d never fight again, that violence was not something he wanted. In those months he and Duo had spent a lot of time together. Duo had been angry and frustrated with the world, losing his temper one minute and sobbing heartbroken the next. 

Maybe it had been a brain tumor. 

Chang’s medical team could certainly have resolved that, if that had been the case. They had all been exposed to all kinds of radiation in the wars, and as Heero thought about it, he didn’t think that the war torn L2 colony that Duo had been on as a child could have been counted on to have decent shielding. 

So that was the second path. He could accept his own medical retirement and devote himself to taking care of Duo. That path had a mission oriented sense of appeal and something deeper, more frightening, more full of need than Heero had ever admitted to himself, though, as he thought about it now Service in Preventers had been just as mission focused, but violent, ruthless, and often lethal This would be more dark poetry, a winding of desire and will, towards happiness and contentment. 

So if Duo had had a brain tumor.... was he competent? Was he still an adult? That mattered in ways that Heero also found dark. He wanted something from Duo, something vital and flowing as blood. He wanted passion and attention and desire. 

He looked around the room, checking to see that he was alone, before pressing the heel of his hand to his zipper, rocking it over the hard flesh. He wanted primal. He wanted Duo’s mouth to open so he could slide his tongue in again, just like that time on the beach, but more so. 

If Duo wasn’t... adult in his mind, then such things were gone. A broken Duo frightened him, but one that was eternally innocent and cuddling snow weasels brought a darker bleeding sorrow to the edge of Heero’s being. 

Though he loved him. Only now feeling the edges of that love did he really understand what that meant, the dark obsidian sharp edges that cut through his own soul sharp works cut breath, leaving marks that would never not be there. It had always been there, this love, from the first moment he really comprehended Duo, from the moment he had an image of that laughing, friendly, genuine, vibrant personality in his mind, he had been lost to it’s gravity, suck down a gravity well that he had never even tried to fight. He’d just accepted it as part of himself and like all parts of himself, it needed to be hushed as he served the greater needs.

Except those broken obsidian edges cut through him, cut away his need to serve others, cut away the demands made by Dr. J as if Duo’s being were such darker wizardry than J could have ever been. The fear that Duo might be childlike mentally made a vital and human part of Heero feel like it couldn’t fit down the gravity well and he’d be torn in part as sure as a dark hole would shred a man, spinning the threads of his being through to some other universe where his desires could never go. 

Duo wrote books though, and those must show his state of mind though, right? Steeling himself for Good Night Moon with Ferrets, he opened a digital copy of Duo’s most recent book. 

At the end of the first chapter, he transferred the book to his tablet and found his own private room. 

Duo was definitely not a child, whatever he was, childlike in mind was not part of it. 

And thus did Heero read his first gay erotic novel and learn why really good hotels put lube in the room. 

When he woke, wearing only his shirt and socks, stretched out on the king sized bed they’d provided of him, snuggled up under a down comforter that was unreasonably light, fluffy, and heavy all at the same time, he stroked his softness and tried to summon anger at Dr. J for inhibiting that particular behavior. He just felt so right that he couldn’t find anger. It was like that obsidian blade of embracing his need for Duo cut that way too.

Though he expected he’d find that part again. 

When he sat up, the lights came on slowly, like the sun rising. A slightly warmer light came from the bathroom, drawing him in. A clean outfit, not his previously, but enough in his style and functionality that it might as well have been, lay folded neatly on the counter. There was a glass enclosed shower with three shower heads. There was also a steaming Japanese bath, with a cup and pot of what he expected was his favorite tea, brewed perfectly. 

There were advantages to moving into the Imperial Chinese family household, he supposed. How the staff got in without waking him, he didn’t know. He kind of didn’t wan to know, as thinking about staff entering his room at will felt like an enormous security breach and risk. He scowled at himself in the huge bamboo edged mirror, trying to decide how upset he was over that. 

When a disembodied face of a child appeared in the mirror, he grabbed a towel to hide that he wasn’t wearing pants and decided that Wufei’s children had entirely too much power and privilege. 

“This form bothers you,” the child asked apologetically. “I thought it would be non-threatening. The face shifted to that of a beautiful Chinese girl with clearly blind eyes. “I am Ming Lin. I am not human. I provide services here. Please allow me to serve you, Heero. Anything you want, please only ask and I will bring it to you.” 

“What are you?” Heero asked, still holding the towel firmly around his waist. “Do you record what happens in my room?”

“I am synthetic intelligence. I am aware of everything, but my memories are not accessible without court order or Imperial Decree. Neither have ever been presented during my lifetime.”

“How old are you?” 

“I am approximately seventy-five years old I was of limited use until the last five years, however. Are the clothes I provided acceptable, Heero?”

“Yes,” Heero said. “Can you see me right now?”

“All things are retained, but I am not aware of them. As you can see, I have assumed a blind avatar.” She smiled patiently. 

“Is Duo sick,” he asked, words rushed.

“The privacy of all my residents is sacred, but you can rest assured that Duo is not ill.” 

“I... I want different clothes,” Heero said, biting the edge of his lower lip for just a moment. 

“What would you like?” She asked as the clothes she’d provided previously literally dematerialised. 

“I want... black slacks, polished leather shoes, a white shirt, black tie, a fedora, gray.” 

“Oh,” she asked. “Like this?” A small hologram appeared of a man from a movie that Duo and Heero had seen years ago, a historical movie with a detective. The man looked a little like Heero, thinner lips, shorter hair. “Would you also like a hair cut?”

“Can you do that? How did you know?”

“I have watched that movie 1928 times,” she said without emotion or further explanation. “If you will hold still, I will cut your hair. You may feel a slight tingle.”

He watched in the mirror as his hair magically cut into the style of the man from the movie. 

An hour later, Heero set the dusty gray fedora on his head, cocked his head. There was temptation to pray to whatever gods, that Duo would find him attractive, would desire him too. Such a prayer would be unethical though, and futile. There were no gods and if there were, he wanted Duo to want him because he did, not because of some god, but the temptation still tugged. That was that edge of obsidian cutting his soul again, wanting something so badly that might not be able to be had. 

It took him another fifteen minutes, twelve of which were spent in front of the door which his hand on the handle, waiting to decide if he wanted to leave his room, before he stepped into the hall. 

Duo was waiting, baggy jeans and a tee-shirt, braid laying on his shoulder, hanging down his chest with a dozen silky flyaways around his face. Heero took his hat off and bowed a little. When Duo’s fingers touched his temple, he didn’t see it coming. The touch was warm, gentle and he stopped breathing. Caught rising from his bow, he stood there, a virgin unicorn caught in the dark whispered poetry of the God of Death. 

Duo’s smile was bright and touched every part of his face. When Duo leaned closer to him, he suddenly could breath, short panicked little breaths that turned into a deep breath into his soul when Duo’s lips met his. His mouth opened and Duo’s was in him, possessing him, transferring emotion couldn’t be possible. Peace and euphoria swirled until he reached out, his hands touching Duo’s face, then suddenly he wrapped his arms around him, breaking the kiss and just holding Duo to him as if he could undo years of poor choices in one embrace. Just as suddenly, Heero was crying again, like he hadn’t since the end of the war. 

What washed out of him felt endless, but Duo was stiff in his arms, patting his back awkwardly, so that Heero let go, wiped at his face and tried to smile, which felt like he was some vermin smiling before getting kicked hard. Duo’s eyes had that empty look again, though his hand reached out to touch Heero’s cheek, tracing a wet line of tear track. 

Then he pivoted on one foot and strode off. 

Heero followed. Wherever Duo was going, he was too.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero has a dream with Duo in it, but maybe it's not Duo and maybe he remembered something from the wars.

Dark Poetry 3/?  
By Max

 

Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing

 

Heero shook his head. Standing in a clearing he watched the fog swirl around his bare legs. Pale gray sheerness against honey colored skin, too smooth to match a Western ideal of masculine beauty. Irritated with himself he looked up, searching for additional clues as to why he’d be standing naked in a field. No great expert on forests, it didn’t seem large enough to be a natural growth on Earth, or monstrous enough to be something out of a bad dream. Mostly rapid growing pines in a mostly too orderly pattern of dispersal, meant it was maybe one of Duo’s animal areas. 

So he was sleep walking? Almost out of habit, he reached to his dysfunctional thigh and rubbed, even though it wasn’t hurting at that moment and didn’t hurt when he put pressure on it. He pushed a little harder, felt nothing but pressure, and decided he was dreaming. 

Of course, it made complete sense that Duo Maxwell would be standing right in front of him then, the scent of lavender and cedar present, his long hair loose around his face. It hung in a heavy curve from his temple down to his shoulder, then wove back into a loose braid. His eyes seemed darker than normal, with thick dark lashes and a disconcerting line of black kohl that across those eyelids that made it impossible to look away. 

“Hallo, Heero,” Duo said, but his voice was deeper, darker in some way that Heero didn’t understand, but siren like - like an undertow that one didn’t want to fight. 

“Hello,” Heero said. The act of speaking to Duo sent tingles behind his ears, a flutter through his breath. 

Duo reached up to his shoulder to slip a slender finger under the edge of a blue Japanese kimono, pushing it back a bit to reveal smooth lean curve of muscled shoulder. “Do you know what they say about the world of the fae, Heero Yuy?”

Heero’s mouth had suddenly gone try and it took him a moment to look back up into Duo’s eyes. There would forever be something deeply erotic about that shade of lavender for him. All military training and want to be a machine just gone, because those eyes made him know there was soul, that the purpose of life was to rise and join with the one you loved. Standing there naked, the mist not high enough to hide his rising, he felt vulnerable, yet completely at peace. “Who are the fay?”

“It is said,” Duo said, turning to face Heero, the kimono slipping from both shoulders to cradle his braid, until Duo released his hold on the front and it fell open, revealing a lean, muscular body, dark pubic hair that trailed up his belly just a bit, a dark curved cock, hard and perfect. “That they were a people who lived just out of the realm of mortal man. Fairies, gnomes, nymphs, and such fanciful whims,” Duo whispered, his lips warm and dark, even though his breath tumbled into fog as he spoke. 

Duo’s hand pressed to Heero’s bare chest and his heart jumped back to life, beating like a little bird in Duo’s domain. “But you don’t believe in such things, do you, Heero? Not the soul, not love, certainly not the banshee who could sing a man’s soul from his bones? Is there anyone you loved enough to go into the realm of beings you knew not to save parts you didn’t even believe in?”

All his hair stood up on his head as Duo spoke, his erection gone soft as those goosebumps tumbled down the back of his arms. “What are you talking about,” Heero whispered, barely able to get enough breath to speak. 

Duo’s hand on his chest felt heavy. The air chilled around him. Blades of tall wild grass brushed sharp against his bare calves and gravel felt like ice under his soles. Duo leaned closer, taller now than Heero knew Duo to be, and yet this was his Duo too, this man was familiar, this being, expression of self, he knew this aspect of Duo as well as the Duo he’d been living with for six months. 

“Are you frightened, already, Heero?” Duo asked, his lips warm, perhaps the brightest source of warmth in the world at that moment and only millimeters from Heero’s chilling lips. Those dark violet eyes watched him and there was such a mix, predator and prey both, fear and an almost desperate hope. “Do I frighten you? It would be better if you ran away, Heero. Forget you found me.”

In his mind, Heero grabbed the ruthless training he’d had as a child and declared it his own. He was afraid, but he could turn it off. Blue eyes were the summer sky to Duo’s twilight chaos. This was not a dream. There was nothing in him that would summon a dream like this. Heero found his range of motion by sheer will power and pushed his hands into Duo’s hair, cradling the his head, foreshadowing his intention to kiss him. “Souls are beautiful illusion and I’d believe almost anything for you, but you’re a man, just as I’m a man. Only in each other do we find our humanity and I suggest we commit to long-term bonds of reciprocal altruism. “ Heero awkwardly pressed his lips to Duo’s and suddenly the chill was gone, as fast as it had come, the field was again a warm spring night. With his eyes closed, his thumbs on Duo’s temples he could feel his lover’s pulse, the truth in what he’d just declared. They were both men. 

His eyes still closed, he felt Duo’s hand close around his soft cock, which stayed soft about as long as it took those fingers to close. Trembling, breath shaky in their kiss, he had no desire to form a defense as Duo’s tongue pushed into his mouth. More merging than submission, he opened, relaxed, accepted and Duo touched him in every right way, building him to a breathlessly fast apex. He came and Duo’s arm around him held him up, held him close, so close that his still hard, still delivering cock rubbed against Duo’s hard belly. “That’s my beautiful Heero,” Duo purred, “So beautiful, so perfect. I’m telling you, Heero. If you ever loved me, you should run away.”

Heero grunted, hands closing on fistfuls of Duo’s warm hair. He pulled back just a little, enough to look Duo in the face. “I will never leave you again. I was wrong to do so before. I will figure out why you only talk in dreams or on line. I will be here. I will never leave.”

Duo’s eyes were darker, his face younger, thinner, ashen. “What if you’re wrong, Heero? What if I’m dangerous?”

“Duo,” Heero said as if this answer were completely obvious, “You’ve always been dangerous.”

“Things you don’t believe in, can still kill you, you know,” Duo said, but his words were an echo as Heero sat up in his bed, out of breath, hands running over short sweaty hear. The shudder that went down his spine was the farthest thing from erotic he’d ever felt. 

Duo’s body walked the halls here in the house that Wufei made for him. He’d just gotten a hand job from Duo’s mind. “Oh,” Heero whispered, sitting there in his sweat damp sheets. 

There had been a very slight moment in the wars, and maybe that had even been a tiny pebble on the scale that had tipped Heero away from Duo sooner, but he’d had the slightest suspicion that there were two Duos. They had one body, but two selves.

Maybe it wasn’t some kind of brain tumor, not physical trauma either, but something else. Striving not to grind his teeth, he moved from bed to his spartan desk and the computer he used to talk to Duo. 

He sat there for another few minutes, fingers lingering on the keys before he typed, “Shinigami.” 

It was stupid, It was a silly idea, the idea of a boy in war, cooked up by an undeveloped mind with too much adrenaline and who knew what other hormones. Furiously he rushed to construct some plausible excuse to explain to Duo why he’d typed that name in. 

Then the cursor in the chat client turned a deep bruise purple. “Yes?”


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo speaks... there is paintball

Dark Poetry 4/?

Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing

 

Notes: This story is taking so long. I wish sometimes I’d just write straight adventure or something and the story wasn’t somehow a mural of my own inner life. If I could manage that, I’d have a much nicer house. Also, I have a new website for my original work: www.duointherain.com

 

The house was two stories, three if you counted the pointy attic. Heero thought wasting a floor like that showed bad judgement, but it was an old Earth style house, Victorian. Relena had been very partial to such houses. And fuck, he was tired of all this bullshit. 

It was easy to be pissy at Relena. For one, she wasn’t here and for two she wouldn’t have noticed his irritation if she had been there. But the irritation went way beyond then her and it settled on Duo like a funnel as reason drained away. 

There was nothing physically wrong with Duo Maxwell. Enough bad shit had happened to fill several books, but fuck it all, bad shit happened to everyone. For months! Heero had walked around in Duo’s house, texting to talk at him, watching vacant purple eyes stare at the walls, watching everyone in Duo’s life trip around him like he was some fragile baby lily or rare panda thing, something fragile and precious. 

“Fragile, my ass,” Heero screamed at the Victorian ghost house. It stood at the top of a hill, the ocean rushing against the bottom of the hill like some planetary time system. The house itself was faded blues and blacks, paint peeling, a few shingles missing and it looked like one huge untreated bruise. “Remember in the war, when we ate out of that dumpster?! That was your fucking idea,” Heero shouted. “Your resilience and strength made me think anything was possible!”

Heero glared at Duo standing on the second floor behind a dirty window, wearing a dark suit, his hair darker, face pale, looking like a fucking melancholy vampire. With perfect, darkly poetic elegance, Duo tilted his head, pale lips parting, tears slipping down that face like glittering trails of regret. 

Heero wrinkled his nose, feeling a fire, blue fire roar to life behind his eyes. He’d been doing this same shit, in his own way, feeling sorry for himself because his leg hurt and his eyes leaked and he couldn’t have what he thought he’d wanted. 

Duo’s voice, not Shinigami, but Duo, whispered in Heero’s mind, “I want you to leave. You’re not welcome in my house anymore.”  
“Oh yeah,” Heero asked, lips twisting. “This as far as Q and Wu got with your whiny ass? And they just felt this wave of emotion coming off you and backed away, being so delicate with you? Poor, sweet,” Heero leaned down carefully, aware that the dream physics felt real enough to make his leg a worthless stack of proteins, “wounded, little Duo gone all scary as shit? Did they say real nice things as they ran away from you?” 

“Everyone near me dies!” Duo howled, his voice an embedded plea in breeze like some splendid theatrical experience. 

 

He bounced the rock in his palm and then on what felt like a golden bright whim, he flung that rock with all his strength and it went through a lower window and crashed into something quite breakable on the inside. 

The practiced theatrics of the world froze. Heero grabbed a second rock and aimed higher. The anger that fueled the throw came from anger at himself and at Duo and the world that had treated them both like such shit and war, plague, starvation, all the fucking stupid shit that humans do. That rock went through a pane right next to where Duo was standing.

The anger was contagious and Duo’s face flushed with color, his hair lightening to chocolate brown, and it was like he was in color while the rest of the world was in black and white. Both hands smacked against the glass and angry violet eyes glared down at Heero.

Grinning, Heero felt a rush of joy and light, like Duo’s angry face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen! Still grinning, he grabbed another rock and put it through the window next to Duo. Duo’s mouth went snarly and he pointed to the window. 

Heero shrugged, pointed at the remaining rocks on the ground and smiled his intentions. 

Duo opened the window and stuck his head out, looking the most lke Duo athat Heero had seen him since he got here. “Ima a kill yer stupid ass!”

“Well, come on then,” Heero shouted back, “I’ve died a couple times. Maybe third time’s the charm!”

“Are you fucking stupid? I’m dangerous!”

“What did you do that makes you think making yourself into a zombie was a good idea?” Heero bounced the next rock in his palm and as Duo’s control of the environment waned a bit, he found the hooks to shift it and the rock became a yellow paint bomb, which hit the exterior and splattered like a flower.

“What the fuck is that,” Duo growled, leaning out of the window to look at the paint splat. “Yellow? You splashed yellow paint on mah house! Mother fucker!”  
Heero gained more control over the environment as Duo gave into his indignation. Rocks gave way to a paint gun, and the next blast of yellow hit Duo in the face. Heero planned it to smell like sunshine on cloth and maple syrup and as it spread across Duo’s face, the look of sheer disbelief and moral outrage, grew like a building orgasm and then he fell backwards in a peal of laughter. 

There were so many things Heero hadn’t even begun to ask the question about, but yellow felt like hope and now like Duo’s laughter and he ran into the house, firing again-and-again, blasting yellow over any and all surfaces. The more yellow, the better he felt!

On his way up the stairs, he was met by a sting to his face, then blue drips down his chest to his hands. 

“Mah favorite color’s blue!” Duo said, trying not to grin. 

“Uh,” Heero grunted and put a yellow slug right over Duo’s heart. “Yellow makes me happy.”

Heero had chased him down the hall, not even trying to dodge the blue capsules. At the end, he grabbed the doorknob before Duo could and held the door closed, body pressed to Duo’s, paint gun grinding against the wood beside Duo’s head as they struggled to get some balance between them. “You...” Heero said, rubbing his face against Duo’s hair, his breath against Duo’s ear, “You fill me with instincts, with life, with a want to live, and I think this is love, this joy to be next to you is what a mortal can understand as love.”

“I’m tired of hurting, Heero,” Duo said, still under Heero’s pressure, “Everything is so empty.”

“Do you feel empty right now,” Heero asked, pulling back, searching Duo’s eyes. “Are you in pain right now?”

“No,” Duo said softly, looking pleadingly into Heero’s eyes for understanding.

“Then don’t fucking assume the future. We haven’t built it yet. Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” Duo said, Heero’s words slipping into the fences of his mind and opening gates he hadn’t thought about. “I want to kiss you.”

Their kiss spread warmth and yellow through the house. Duo’s hands came up to touch Heero’s face and the awkward gave way to just pure need, to lust in the most human and primal colors. Then they were both in Heero’s bed in the warm glow of post sex, even though they hadn’t yet. 

Heero wrapped his arms around Duo and pulled him so his head was on his chest. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Duo said. 

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you,” Duo said, with all his being and any future that he might have.


End file.
